


Resident Evil: Night Vale

by allihearisradiogaga



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types, Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Action/Adventure, Body Horror, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, Gen, Survival Horror, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-13
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-02-12 23:19:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 20,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2128203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allihearisradiogaga/pseuds/allihearisradiogaga
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Special Agent Leon Kennedy is sent to investigate the mysterious goings-on in a small southwestern town called Night Vale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prelude

**Author's Note:**

> This crossover is one that I have always just loved the thought of. Weird goings on in Night Vale, investigated by anti-bioterrorists. This is my favorite project of mine, and I plan on working on it for a while.

Leon turned on his comm device and in it saw the familiar face of his at-home agent, Hunnigan. He almost smiled. "Alright, Hunnigan," he said. "Where is it that I'm going?"

"Well, Leon, you're going to a small town in the southwestern United States - it's called Night Vale."

"Night Vale?" asked Leon. "That sounds ominous."

"It is," said Hunnigan. "This town doesn't really exist, according to our records. It's not supposed to be there."

"But it is there," said Leon.

"That's not where it stops getting weird," said Hunnigan. "Radio broadcasts have been being picked up by passersby on the nearby interstate, and what they hear is of impossible things, like angels and miniature cities. Not to mention the fact that any flights going over this area seem to be disrupted in some way, from unexplained delays to complete reroutes."

"Basically, you're telling me that weird things are going on here, and I need to find out what?"

"Basically," said Hunnigan. "The things that are going on there are unnatural, and though we don't have any evidence that could lead to hints of bioterrorism..."

"I understand," said Leon. "It's better to be safe than sorry."

"Yes," she said. "Especially after the whole incident with the Los Illuminados. A simple assignment, turned more complicated by bio-weapons..."

"I understand."

"You will be set down near the edge of the town. From there, your primary objective will be to find a man named Carlos. He was apparently sent to Night Vale to research it about a year and a half ago, but not long after he arrived there, all communications with him were cut off. From what side, I don't know."

"I'm on it," said Leon. He signed off as the helicopter began to touch down onto the hot sand of the desert. Dust swirled all around the copter as Leon jumped out and the blades began to slow. He crouched as he walked out from under the spinning blades and stood up, shielding his eyes from the dust billowing all around him. As it duded down, he saw that he was surrounded by a group of them in black outfits, almost as if they were a part of a SWAT team. The strange part of their appearance was the wrappings around their faces, like the facial shroud of a ninja, with only their eyes showing. They held large automatic guns, all pointed at Leon and his helicopter.

"Halt," said one of the ninja-police. "Sheriff's secret police."

"What?" Asked Leon.

"By orders of the sheriff, we are here to arrest you for violating the helicopter color coding regulations, passed recently by the Mayor and City Council."

"What?" Asked Leon. "No, I think you have it wrong. I'm from the US Government. We have a permit to fly here."

"We do not have any such records," said the shrouded man. We're going to ask you to come with us." Leon looked back to his helicopter, from which he could see the pilot was unsure of what to do.

"Fine," said Leon, softening his stature.

The secret police swarmed in around him and two of them roughly grabbed his hands, shoving them into his back and handcuffing them. Leon turned his head and could see the helicopter being surrounded as well. The pilot looked unsure of what to do for a moment, but as they drew their guns and pointed them at the helicopter. They began to fire as the rotor blades began to spin, and it began to take off. Leon strained his neck, trying to watch as he was hurried away by the crowd of secret police, but he could mostly just hear the explosion and feel the heat of it as the helicopter crashed into the desert sand.

The secret police around him fell to the ground by the impact of the explosion, and Leon took his opportunity. He gave a swift punch to one of the men holding him, and landed an elbow in the face of the other. The policeman that he had punched began to recover and Leon dealt him a blow to the side of his head with his boot.

There was a great deal of sand in the air, all kicked up by the explosion and the helicopter's attempted takeoff, and in the confusion and relative blindness of the secret policemen, Leon took off toward the direction of the town. He glanced over his shoulder and could see a fire blazing, and the confused policemen beginning to get their bearings again. He scrambled forward, running toward the small mass of buildings ahead of him. As he reached them, he saw a small road that led out of the town and stretched into the desert, off to a nearby canyon. He could see behind him the secret police marching back toward town, apparently no longer interested in him. He walked to the road and continued along it toward the town. He could feel the sun on his back, and he realized that he wasn't even quite sure what his mission was here, at all. He would have to start by finding Carlos.

He came upon the first couple of buildings, but not before first finding a small sign on the side of the road that said simply, "Welcome to Night Vale."


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leon explores Night Vale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I use this map for reference when I'm plotting out what happens in this story: http://31.media.tumblr.com/c902becb5f3df9038170b1813119aed4/tumblr_mqa1frs2GP1s1kpsco1_r2_1280.jpg
> 
> I didn't make the map, but it's pretty good for making sure the characters aren't stuck in a space-loop.

Leon found himself walking through a housing development. All of the houses looked the same. They were arranged in little rows, with white vinyl siding and expertly trimmed hedges. It all seemed normal—eerily normal. He slipped his hand under his light jacket and felt the handgun that rest in its holster, right under his left armpit. It gave him a sense of security, even though there really seemed like there was nothing strange going on.

He passed a house in particular, and thought he saw something out of the corner of his eye. He turned to it. The house was sided with white vinyl, just like all of the other houses, and the house had perfectly manicured hedges, just like all of the other houses, but there was something about this house that was distinctly _different_. Leon took a step toward it.

"You don't want to mess with that house," came a voice from behind him. He turned, and there was a man in a tan jacket standing at the curb. He held in one hand a plain briefcase.

"Why not?" asked Leon. He looked the man over, but he didn't seem to be dangerous in any way. He didn't seem to show any signs of malicious intent.

"Because," said the man in the tan jacket, "it's not really there."

"What?" asked Leon. He turned back to the house, and he could see it, with all of its normalcy, but he could tell that there was something uncomfortable about it. He turned back to the man, and he was gone. Leon looked up and down the street, and he did not see the man. He turned back to the house, and a sudden feeling came over him, as if something deep down inside of him didn't want to go near that house. He felt an emptiness, like nothing he had previously experienced.

"Maybe not…" he muttered to himself as he walked back to the street and followed it. It went down to an intersection, and he took a left, following the street down to a large, low brick building. A sign in front of it boasted it as being the "Night Vale Elementary School." Leon zipped up his jacket, despite the heat. He didn't need to be seen with a firearm around school premises.

He tried his best to look nonchalant as he walked along the sidewalk in front of the school. He could hear some tiny voices talking and screaming, and he soon came along the chain link fence that surrounded the playground next to the school, where the kids were outside, playing during recess. He walked with his head down, quickly, but not so quickly that he would attract attention.

A ball was kicked over the fence, and it landed in the road next to Leon, a couple of yards away. He looked at the kids in the playground, and he looked at the ball in the street. He jogged over to it, picked it up, and, walking back over to the sidewalk, tossed it over to some of the kids that were congregating, waiting for it.

"Thanks, mister!" said one of the kids, waving to Leon. Leon gave a small wave back, but his eyes caught on the holster strapped around the small boy's chest. It was not unlike the holster he himself was wearing, under his jacket. Upon closer inspection, Leon could see that most of the kids on the playground had some sort of firearm with them. Some had handguns, many had some sort of holster, and some even carried submachine guns. This was not the sort of firepower that Leon was used to seeing out on the streets at all, much less carried by small children.

Leon walked away from the school as quickly as possible, and found himself underneath a split-lane highway. He found his way underneath the bridge, where the highway went over the road, and retreated underneath it to get out of the sun a little bit. He pulled out his comm device.

"Hunnigan, are you there? It's Leon, and I think you're going to want to get a load of this." He looked at the device, and punched in a few commands, but his at-home partner didn't seem to be showing up on the small screen. "Hunnigan," he said. "Hunnigan, can you hear me?"

He punched in a few more commands and tried again. "Hunnigan. Are you there?" He pressed another button, and he glanced at the top of the screen. There seemed to be no reception for his device. The bridge was blocking it, of course, how could he not have thought of that?

Leon crept out from under the bridge and chastised himself for panicking over the small issue of the communication disconnect. He flipped on his comm device again, once he was out in the hot desert sun.

"Hunnigan, are you there? Hunnigan, come in." He did not see her face, but he received some static, and then a man's voice began to speak through the device.

"… and the Sheriff's Secret Police declined to comment on what sort of person this intruder was, but they insisted that he was armed and maybe dangerous. Probably. They don't know. What, is it their job, all of a sudden, to keep tabs on who's dangerous and who's not? Do that yourself, you lazy bum. This stranger, wanted now for violating the Helicopter Color Coding regulations, recently passed by the city council and Mayor Pamela Winchell, and for causing an aerial explosion on a Tuesday. I for one _welcome_ this stranger, and am interested to see how he plans to invigorate our humble town's economy. And I thank him for choosing our sunny utopia over that festering, rotting sore that is our neighbor, _Desert Bluffs_."

Leon pressed some buttons, and tried to communicate with Hunnigan via a different frequency. No matter what he tried, he was unable to receive anything but this one man's voice, coming through his comm device. He wasn't able to make any sort of calls outward, though the cell network or through the radio waves.

"Though I can't be sure what sort of intentions our newcomer might have for our town, I can say, with all honesty, that we could all use a look at the weather…"

The man's voice gave way to a song, mainly two guitars playing, one taking the rhythm, the other taking the main part, composing a little melody. "Weird…" said Leon, adjusting his comm device some more, but unable to get anything other than the song to come through it.

He stood up and climbed up the incline to the side of the split-lane highway, and gazed out over the town. He could see the downtown to the east, with different fast food restaurants and chain stores' lights casting a neon glow, even during the hot daytime. To the west was the elementary school and another building, which Leon could only guess could be the high school, with a sports field out back of it. To the south was the housing development that he had passed through earlier, and another neighborhood. To his north, he could see a building with a tall radio tower rising from it. The tower was topped with a glowing purple light.

Leon looked back at his comm device. If he was able to rig it up through the communication grid at that radio tower, he might be able to get a signal out to Hunnigan to report on what he was finding in this strange town. He slipped the comm device into his pocket and descended the slope again, back to the road. He kept a mental map of what he had seen from the hill in his head, and started north, to the radio station.


	3. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leon explores the Night Vale Community Radio Station.

The radio station, which had seemed smaller from afar, loomed in front of Leon. It was a large gray building, with the broadcasting tower reaching out high above it. The purple light blinked at the top of it, casting a hue around it, even in the hot sun that beat down on the town.

A sign next to the door boasted "Night Vale Community Radio," and in smaller lettering, as if in ammendum, "A Division of Strexcorp," and a Smart Car with the radio station's name was parked out front. It had all sorts of antennae coming from the back side of it, for broadcasting on the go. Leon walked up the couple of steps to the door of the radio station, but then he noticed something. The radio station had its signs, both on the building and on the car, but neither of the signs boasted a radio frequency that they could be heard on. He figured it was nothing, that the people in this town just knew the frequency of their radio station, and he opened the door.

The inside of the radio station was very dark, and Leon's eyes had to take a minute to adjust to the loss of light. Once they did adjust, he could see a long, narrow hallway stretching out in front of him. He crept down it quietly, and found that it was notably cooler in the building than it was outside.

There were a few unlabeled wooden doors that were on both sides of the hallway, and when Leon tried opening them, he found that they were locked. One of them held a small combination lock underneath the door handle, though the rest of them held plain keyholes. He walked to the end of the hallway, and found himself facing a door that was slightly more ornate than the other, plain doors that were throughout the hallway. A small plaque on the door indicated that it was the office of the station management. Leon tried the doorknob, but found that this door, too, was locked.

Leon let out a sigh of frustration, and turned to the door directly to the right of the station management's door, on the right side of the hallway. He was sure that it would be locked, too, just like the rest of the doors, but to his surprise, it swung open easily. He stepped inside only to find it was even darker in there. He groped the wall next to the door for a light switch until he found one, and flipped it on.

The room was illuminated by a single ornate lamp on a small table at the opposite wall. The rest of the room was not like anything Leon would have expected to find inside of a radio station. It was a very old, very ornate living room. There was a very painstakingly upholstered couch that stood on clawed feet, an overstuffed straight-backed chair, and a once-polished oval coffee table. A fireplace was against the back wall, and a couple of bookshelves were placed against the walls in different parts of the room. A couple of paintings, in large gold frames hung on the walls, all with paintings in a dark reddish tone.

It took Leon a moment before he realized what bothered him about this room, other than the fact that it seemed very out of place in a radio station: there was no dust. The entire room was, although it did seem unused and old, immaculately clean. Leon walked slowly around the room, and inspected the furniture. It all seemed to be in good shape, apart from its age. He turned to the nearest painting on the wall.

The painting seemed to be a bloody religious painting, with the image of a cross superimposed in the background. In the foreground, a mass of people were bludgeoning a man with rocks and spears. The man had two heads, and eyes not only on his head, but on his chest, arms, and the rest of his body. A couple of the eyes seemed to blink at him, and Leon took a step back. He turned away from the painting, and went to the fireplace instead.

The hearth was completely clean, with no indication that a fire had been made there in a very long time. There was nothing on the mantle of the fireplace, but above it was a large portrait of not someone, but _something_. It was a large, dark mass, with tentacles and limbs that seemed to sprout out of nowhere in particular. In the center of the being was a large purple eye, an eye that seemed to be the same color as the light that lit up the top of the broadcasting tower. The monster in the portrait must have had some meaning to the people of the radio station, for it to have such a renowned place in the room, over the fireplace.

Upon closer inspection, Leon could see that the eye was not simply an eye. The pupil, a round black dot in the center of the purple ellipse, was raised slightly above the rest of the painting. This either meant that there was a bit of pain that stuck there in a lump when the painting was created, or…

"It's a button," Leon muttered to himself. He pushed his thumb against it, and felt it depress, and something behind it click. The fireplace lit up in flames, and Leon took a startled step backward.

It was a gas stove, without any sort of protection around it. It must have been installed a while ago, for it to not have any sort of enclosure for safety. Leon could feel the room heating up already, and he turned around. The light of the fire danced off of the glossy surfaces of the other paintings in the room, and Leon returned to the painting of the man underneath the cross. The eyes on his body seemed to glint in the light, and Leon could now see red eyes on the faces of the attackers.

Leon went on to look at another of the paintings, and saw that there was a crowd in this one, too. It seemed to be citizens of an early Night Vale or a similar desert town, gathered at some sort of town meeting. Almost every single person in the picture seemed angry, and the backdrop to the picture was an almost comic portrayal of a gold town in the old West. A church stood in the back of the painting, two gold crosses adorning its steeple.

Leon decided that, as he was already looking at the paintings, that he would check out the last one in the room. There was a smaller painting with a painting of a farm scene, in what could have been a New England valley. There were a couple of animals in the scene, but all of them seemed to be turned away. There was an enclosure around the animals, penning them in. Upon closer inspection, Leon could see that the fence was actually made up of three crosses, with ropes or chains between them. The crosses were illuminated by the flickering fire.

Leon took a step back and looked at the paintings. He looked around the edges for any sort of hidden switches, but he could find none. He got down on his hands and knees and checked underneath the furniture—there was no trapdoor or hidden anything. He looked again at the paintings, and except for the creepy eyes that seemed to blink in the pictures, he could really tell nothing that was out of place. And yet, why would this room be here, be like this?

Then, he thought of the stories that Claire had told him, of the tricks and traps that she had gone through on Rockfort Island. The crazy man that ran the prison had laid traps and set up puzzles inside of his mansion, and that was the only way to find the way through it. And Chris had experienced the same thing, back at the Spencer Mansion, before the Raccoon City catastrophe. This could be like that—there could be a hidden puzzle that lay directly in front of his eyes.

Leon thought back to the doors in the hallway. They had required keys, and he was, so far, unable to find one. But not all of them had required keys—one of them had a combination, with three spots for numbers to be entered. Since there was really nothing in the hallway, and the door to the living room that he was currently in seemed to be the only one unlocked, he had to guess that the clues must be in here.

He looked to the paintings on the wall, and the eyes in the first painting blinked at him again. A chill ran down his spine, despite the fire going in the room. That was when it hit him.

Leon walked up to the painting and quickly counted the eyes that were on the many-eyed man who was being beaten. He moved to the next painting and counted the eyes in the angry mob of people. There were no eyes in the third painting, as the animals were facing away from the frame.

He went back out into the hallway, and down to the door with the combination lock. He thumbed in the numbers, the number of crosses in each picture telling him the order in which they should go. 9-7-0. He took a breath, felt for his gun in its holster, to make sure that he had it ready, just in case, and turned the doorknob. He could feel it click as the lock opened, and the door swung inward.


	4. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leon and Cecil meet.

Leon found himself in a small hallway, and he crept down it softly. There was a worn rug beneath his feet, and the walls were covered with plain wood paneling. He found two doors in the hallway. He tried the first one, and found himself in a supply closet. He looked around, and didn't find much. There were some stacks of paper, some pamphlets from some sort of community event, some cleaning solution, and a small door key. Leon took the key. It was ordinary, just like any other sort of key that might be used to open any door. He slipped it into his pocket and stepped out of the closet. He went to the other door, and found that it was locked. He tried the key, but found that it did not fit the lock.

Leon returned to the original entrance hallway and tried the key in the first door, but to no avail. He tried the second to the same effect. He went to the door labeled "Station Management," but he wasn't able to open that one, either. This left one more locked door, and he found that the key fit. He pushed the door, and it swung open easily. He found himself in another short hallway, and he walked into it. It had the same type of overused rug running along it, but it was mainly illuminated by a single red light next to another sign that said "ON AIR."

There was one door in the hallway, and it was all the way at the end. Leon walked toward it and as he did, he found himself passing by a window that looked in upon a radio soundboard. It had controls lit up along it, and was quite obviously running during the ongoing program. On the other side of these controls was a small room with a wooden desk. The wooden desk supported only a microphone and a coffee mug. Behind the desk was a blond man, probably a bit shorter than Leon, wearing a sweater vest and a loose tie. He saw Leon looking at him, and they made eye contact through the glass. The man inside continued to speak, though Leon could not hear it through the soundproofed room.

He contemplated whether or not he should enter the room. He wanted to be able to access the radio tower as quickly as possible to get in contact with Hunnigan and see what exactly was going on, but he wasn't sure if he should interrupt the broadcast. He decided that he needed to worry about the mission before anything else, and he went in through the door, which gave up no resistance when he turned the knob.

"…and now he seems to have entered the room. I'm not sure what this stranger plans to do here, or what he wants with me, but I'll be sure to find out." Leon walked to the desk and pressed the button at the base of the mic that muted it.

"My name is Leon S. Kennedy. I'm a special agent with the U.S. Government, and I need access to your communications equipment." He looked the man in the eye, who looked startled, but not threatened. "And I don't want anyone else knowing that I'm here. There's a hostile police force that intends to stop me from completing my mission."

"And what might your mission be?" asked the radio man. He leaned forward toward Leon inquisitively.

"I'm looking for a man named Carlos who was sent to this town a little over a year ago to study the strange goings-on here. We haven't heard from him since he's gotten here. Do you know him?"

"Know him?" asked the man behind the desk. "I'm his boyfriend."

Leon didn't know how to reply to that. He dropped his finger from the mute button and the small light at the base of the mic lit up red again. "Listeners," said the man behind the desk, "it seems that I'm needed elsewhere, and it is that time of day that beckons ever closer the end of our time together. So, with all of the most caring emotions allowed by recent town mandates, I wish you the most profitable of futures. And, as always, good night, Night Vale. Good night."

The man pressed a button on the side of the microphone and stood up. "My name is Cecil Palmer, Mr. Kennedy. I host the community radio show here in Night Vale. I was just going to meet Carlos after my show anyway. I guess I'll just bring you along."

"Why didn't you report me to the Secret Police?" asked Leon, wary of the man's helpfulness.

"Any coworker of Carlos's is a coworker of mine," said Cecil. "And besides, you haven't done anything that seems to warrant a report to the Sheriff's Secret Police yet, I think… at least according to the most recent bylaws…"

"Thank you," said Leon. He figured that with Cecil's cooperation, he could use the radio station's equipment to make contact with Hunnigan _after_ he was able to make contact with Carlos. Then, he could get down to the bottom of what was making this whole town so strange. He followed Cecil quietly out the door.


	5. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leon and Cecil meet up with Carlos.

"Oh, you're going to love Carlos," said Cecil, as he piloted the Smart Car down the apparently empty street. Leon felt cramped in the passenger seat. "He's _perfect_. I mean, he's got his little things, but don't we all?"

Leon looked at the man, who had a large grin plastered across his face. He had been talking almost nonstop since they had left the radio station, and Leon had been trying to absorb most of what he had been saying. "We sure do," he said.

"He's probably working on some science right now," said Cecil. "He's always working on that science of his—testing things, experimenting on things. He's quite the intellectual. And he barely ever has any disastrous accidents, so that makes him the top scientist in all of Night Vale. I'd like to see Desert Bluffs do him better. I don't think so!"

"Was that just two libraries?" asked Leon.

"Yeah," said Carlos. "The one that is slightly more to the west is the public library. The other one is the private library."

"Why do you have two libraries right next to each other?" asked Leon. "That doesn't make much sense, does it?"

"Oh, I don't have two libraries," said Cecil. "The private library belongs to Marcus Vanston. He's the richest guy in town—so, of course, he's also the most benevolent."

"I'm not sure that's how that correlation works," said Leon.

"No, it is," said Cecil, as he turned the corner. "And by the way, we're here."

Leon stepped out of the tiny car to look at what seemed to be a totally normal duplex apartment building, set not too far back from the street. There was a small porch on the front, and two doors, one for 20A, and one for 20B. There were two mailboxes next to the doors, though only one held a label. There didn't seem to be a car in the driveway, but there was a separate garage at the end of it with its doors closed. Leon followed Cecil to the porch.

Cecil unlocked the door to 20A and slipped the key into his pocket, and Leon followed him inside. It was the downstairs apartment, and once they were out of the entranceway, Leon could immediately tell that this was not a normal apartment.

There was scientific equipment everywhere. On the large table in the middle of the room stood beakers and vials, against the walls were setups of scientific machinery. A couple of computers were set up on a desk at the far side of the room. Cecil strode past all of this and into the kitchen beyond, where the small table seemed to be lumped high with a few instruments and beakers, and a pile of paperwork and notebooks. A man in a white lab coat was hunched over something at the counter.

"Carlos!" sang Cecil, a fluctuation of tone in his voice showing the affection that he had for the man. The man in the white jacket spun around, surprised but not unhappy about it. His black rimmed glasses rested at the touch of gray above his ears, and his mouth stretched into a smile as he embraced Cecil.

"I was just working on some lunch," said Carlos, indicating the sandwich he had been working on. "I was in the process of testing some of the bark taken from a tree in the woods on the edge of town, but the tests were going nowhere, and I suddenly realized it was four o'clock! I know it's late, but I realized how hungry I was!"

It was at this point that he noticed Leon for the first time. He took a step back toward the counter. "And who is your friend, Cecil?" he asked.

"Oh!" said Cecil, as if he'd almost forgotten about Leon, while he was staring into the eyes of his beau. "This is Leon Kennedy. He's here from the World Government to talk to you."

"I'm from the U.S. Government," said Leon. "But yes, Carlos, I was sent here to make sure that you were alright. You've been missing for about a year now. I've been sent to find out what's been going on around here."

"Well," said Carlos, "good luck."

"What do you mean?" asked Leon.

"Things around here are strange," said Carlos. "And that's why I'm not too surprised that the transmissions I've been making over the past year with the U.S. Government haven't been going through."

"What?" asked Leon.

"I've been in constant contact, or so I thought, with some higher-ups in Washington since I got here," said Carlos. "I was sent here to study meteorological anomalies and potential side effects from former nuclear testing nearby. Yet, what I've found here is much more interesting than any of that."

"What do you mean?" asked Leon. He leaned against the kitchen table.

"I mean, have you seen any strange things in this town?" asked Carlos. "Anything that you wouldn't really expect to find anywhere else?"

Leon thought back to the children with weapons on the playground. He thought back to the house that was both there and not there at the same time. He remembered the man in the tan jacket who was as ominous as possible, though he couldn't remember him exactly. He remembered the way that the only reception he could get was the single radio station. He remembered the radio station, with its strange puzzles to just get into the recording room.

"A little strange," admitted Leon, "though I've dealt with stranger."

"That's because you've barely scratched the surface," said Carlos. "You probably want to make contact with your commanders, and see what to do next."

"That's what I went to the radio station for in the first place," said Leon. "That's what I was trying to do when I met Cecil."

"He interrupted my broadcast," said Cecil, finally able to break into the conversation. "It's okay, of course, I'm happy to have him. But he _was_ there, and he _did_ do it."

"Well," said Carlos, "I just need to let you know right now, Mr. Kennedy, that I don't plan on leaving Night Vale any time soon. There is just too much that is so scientifically fascinating here—it's a goldmine of discovery! But I would like to make contact— _real_ contact—with my higher-ups."

"Back to the radio station, then?" asked Leon. "It's blocking my signals now, and I only think we'll be able to get out and into the rest of the world with any sort of signal is through there."

"Let's go," said Carlos. "Cecil, is that okay?"

"Of course!" said Cecil. "We'll get it going in no time!"

"Great, then we're off," said Carlos, as he led the other two men out the door, leaving his sandwich uneaten on the counter.


	6. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They crash the car. It wasn't Leon's fault.

The three men turned left onto the street of the radio station, but there was a blockade across the road. Leon was in the miniscule backseat of the Smart Car, but he ducked down as far as he could. Carlos threw his jacket over him, providing him just a tiny bit more of anonymity, and Cecil pulled to a stop.

"Hello, sir," he said cheerily to the man holding the large gun and wearing heavy riot body armor.

"This road is blocked off by orders of the World Government," said the man. "Turn your vehicle around and be on your way."

"Alright!" said Cecil. "Have a great barricade!" He turned the car around and began off in the other direction.

"What do we do now?" asked Leon, emerging from under Carlos's coat.

"I don't know," said Carlos. "The World Government's usually only involved if something really big is going down, otherwise the Sheriff's Secret Police would be all over it."

"Yeah," said Cecil, turning back to speak to Leon." "We'd best just wait the blockade out until—"

"Cecil!" exclaimed Carlos. Cecil whipped his head around and saw the girl in the road ahead of them. He screamed and jerked the wheel sharply to the left. The Smart Car missed the girl, but the momentum tilted it over onto its side, to the grass past the curb.

"Eurgh…" groaned Cecil, rubbing his head. Carlos was draped over him, and he carefully pushed himself back into his own seat and undid the seat belt. He maneuvered to the ground and began to work on Cecil's belt.

"Are you both okay?" he asked. Some blood dripped down his arm as he pulled Cecil upright.

Leon pulled himself up, cracking his neck to the left and right as he did. He had sustained no major injuries. "I'm fine," he said. "I'm just happy _I_ didn't crash the car for once."

"I'm fine," said Cecil. "My head, though…" he said, putting his fingers to his forehead.

"Let's get out of this lunchbox," said Leon, pushing open the passenger side door and pulling himself up through it. Carlos helped Cecil to his feet, and Leon helped him up. He then pulled Carlos up as well, and all three stood on the grass next to the wrecked Smart Car.

Carlos began performing a concussion check on Cecil, and Leon turned back to the street. The girl that they had swerved to avoid was crouched behind a small shrub on the opposite side of the street, using binoculars to stare at the blockade a couple of blocks away.

"Who's that?" asked Leon. Carlos joined him on the sidewalk, followed by Cecil.

"That's Tamika Flynn!" said Carlos.

"She's missing!" said Cecil, straightening his glasses. "After she went rogue from the summer reading program…"

"What?" asked Leon. "What do you mean, she escaped from the Summer Reading Program? Do kids here hate reading that much?"

"It's not like that, Leon," said Carlos. "Actually, when the people here in Night Vale talk about libraries, and librarians, and all of that, they're really talking about something much different than you'd expect."

"I'm pretty much a seasoned guy," said Leon. "I have a feeling that not much you'll throw at me will surprise me."

"The librarians are crazed, mutated maniacs that regularly attack anyone who tries to use the public library," said Carlos.

"Those zany librarians," said Cecil, chuckling.

"About a year ago, the kids who were taken hostage as a part of the Summer Reading Program busted their way out of there, and they haven't been the same since the incident."

"Wait…" said Leon. "Are we talking about a biohazard?"

"I'm not sure," said Carlos. "I've never gotten close enough to one of the librarians to tell if they are bio-organic weapons."

"But Tamika would have," said Leon. "And I need to find out more. Biohazards are serious business—I've dealt with them before. And you said there were others?"

"Oh, yes," said Cecil. "There's a bunch of them, the missing children. I have a list back at the radio station, and the management has me read their names every so often, to make sure that folks out there keep their eyes out for any kids that might be wandering around."

"I'm going to talk to her," said Leon.

"Wait, I'm not sure if that's the best—"

Cecil trailed off as Leon walked across the street to the girl in the bushes, who had not yet seemed to have noticed the wrecked car that had swerved to avoid her.

"Hello," said Leon. "Tamika, is it? My name is—"

"Shut up and get down," replied the girl. "If I get caught by these bozos, I'm making sure that you are spread across the street farther than that damn barricade." Leon now noticed the large hunting knife that she held in her hand, and the even larger assault rifle that laid across her lap. He crouched down to his haunches.

"I hear that you've been inside of the library," said Leon.

Tamika turned to him, with an incredulous expression spread across her hardened face. Leon wouldn't have believed, had he not already known, that she was only thirteen or so.

"Of course I was in the library," said Tamika. "I was a part of the Summer Reading Program. That idiot blabs about it on the radio all the time. What, have you been living under a rock or something?"

"No," said Leon, "I've actually been on the move quite a bit. I haven't really gotten an opportunity to listen to local radio, though."

Tamika wasn't paying attention to him. She had her eyes trained on the barricade. "Look, I'd love to stay and chat, but I have more important things to deal with right now," she said. She stood and hauled herself over the bush in one even motion and began running over to the barricade. Cecil and Carlos rushed across the street to Leon.

"What do you think you're doing?" asked Cecil, waving his arms as he talked. "That's Tamika Flynn! That's dangerous!"

"Leon was about to reply when a scream and some gunshots came from down the street. The three men peeked over the bushes to see the World Government agents at the barricade all collapsed at their posts, slain by the small body that was running away from them toward the radio station.

"What the hell?" exclaimed Leon. "She just killed those men!"

"She could've killed you, too," said Cecil. "Count yourself lucky."

"I don't think you understand the dynamic here," said Carlos. "I'm not saying that it's okay to just kill people, but things are different here than anywhere else in the world."

"What do we do?" asked Leon. "Should we call the police?" He was unsure, based on Cecil and Carlos's reactions, of what the best plan of action would be.

"The Sheriff's Secret Police has probably been watching the whole time," said Cecil. "Besides, aren't they after you right now, for violating the new helicopter color identification ordinance? Perhaps it would be best not to call any extra attention to yourself."

"Then, let's go to the radio station," said Leon. "The barricade's gone now, though the means weren't the best." He shed his jacket and began walking back across the street. "I guess there's really no need to conceal my weapon at this point, and it's too hot to be wearing this, anyway." He draped the jacket over the car. "We'll come back for this as soon as I can report back to my at-home agent."

"I think I can reroute the radio station's signals to patch you through," said Carlos. "Let's go." Cecil nodded, and the three of them walked through the destruction caused by the thirteen year old survivor of the Summer Reading Program, toward the radio station.


	7. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They run into trouble at the radio station.

The door to the radio station was locked when they returned, but Cecil produced a key and let the three of them in. The hallway was as empty as it had been before when Leon had gone exploring. Instead of bothering with all of the searching that Leon had found himself doing earlier, Cecil simply brought the small group directly into the broadcast room, without any sort of difficulty with locks. Leon took a note of it, wondering if there was a more complex security system in place than he had originally though, one that automatically identified people who were meant to be there and those who weren't. The puzzles that he had solved could be some kind of override, in case the system was compromised.

As he mulled this over, Cecil led Carlos over to the broadcast apparatus, where Carlos immediately set to work. "This shouldn't be too hard," said Carlos. "It's a simple matter, scientifically speaking, to change the direction and frequency of the radio waves broadcast from this station to work with your communication device."

"And I will be able to talk with my at-home agent?" asked Leon. "Because I need some sort of backup or some way out of here. Especially now that I have found you, and there might be the implementation of bioorganic weapons here in Night Vale."

"Leon," said Carlos, "I don't think that you really understand the full implications of what is going on here. This isn't just bioorganic weapons—this face is full of unexplainable things. Trust me—I've tried. I have been running every kind of experiment that I can think of to try to explain things about what is going on here, but all I've been able to figure out are some predictions and solutions to the more simple problems."

"There are more things to this world than just science," said Cecil. This sounded ominous to Leon, but Cecil was smiling as he said it, with a tone that spoke of nothing wrong with the world.

"Well," said Leon, "I just need to worry about the things that _are_ explainable, and that I know I can stop, then. And that means the BOWs, whatever they might be, and why ever they might be implemented."

"That's probably a good idea, for now," said Carlos, looking up from the radio equipment. "I feel that might be the most logical move to make."

"Plus," said Cecil, "you're stuck here. In fact, we should probably bring you to City Hall to pick up your welcome—"

Cecil was cut off by the sudden intrusion of a woman's voice. There was no woman, but her voice was perfectly understandable in the sound-insulated room. "Cecil?" it asked. "Cecil, is that you?"

"What was that?" asked Leon, his hand moving to his holster on instinct.

"That's Dana!" said Cecil. "She's my former intern. We lost her to the dog park about a year ago."

"Cecil, I came to warn you," said Dana. "You are in grave danger."

"From what, Dana?" asked Cecil. "Is it the mountain? Because I thought we discussed that. It doesn't exist. Ignore it, and remember your training from school."

"No, it's much more than the mountain, which isn't really there, because it doesn't exist," said Dana. "I am not sure what it is, but there is a great danger her in—or, rather, as I'm not physically there with you—there in Night Vale. Be on your watch. I have to go now. Someone's coming."

"Run, Dana, you can make it. Away from the mountain!" shouted Cecil. He wasn't sure where to face to face Dana, as he could not see her in her parallel dimension, so he shouted at the file cabinet that held some old records for use on older programs. "Get to safety!"

"Not me," said Dana. "You. Someone's coming for you!"

"What?" asked Cecil. There was no reply. Dana had gone.

"Carlos, how is that radio coming?" asked Leon, with a furthered sense of urgency.

"Not as quickly as I anticipated," said Carlos. "It's much more complex than any radio system I've ever worked with before."

"It was built that way specifically, I think," said Cecil. "That way, it could avoid tampering and other stuff like that."

"That's exactly what we're doing, I suppose, said Carlos. "Or rather, I don't suppose, I know, to be exact."

"Maybe I should check what danger we might be in, that Dana warned us about," said Leon, although he wasn't sure how the former intern had communicated with them. He did know that when a warning was given, it was best to heed it.

"No," said Cecil. "You're wanted by the Sheriff's Secret Police. Any other diligent citizen would report you immediately if they saw you. I'll go and check. It's much more likely that I would be here, even if it isn't my radio slot right now."

Cecil brushed past Leon, reentering the hallway and shutting the door behind him. He found that the hallway was not empty as it had been earlier. He was facing the Night Vale Community Radio program director and his boss, Lauren Mallard.

"Oh! Hello, Lauren," said Cecil. "I'm surprised to see you here today."

"As am I," said Lauren, inspecting her employee. "Didn't you show end an hour or so ago?"

"Um, yes," said Cecil, "but I wanted to make sure that I got everything together for my next show." Lauren raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow. "Keeping the vocal chords ready. It's a great defense against throat spiders."

Lauren watched him, running his story through her mind for a moment, and then spoke. "Well, Cecil," she said with a cheery face and a stoic everything else, "I would hate to lose the voice of Night Vale to something _totally preventable_." Her eyes narrowed. "That would be a shame, if you were to be destroyed by something that you could completely prevent, wouldn't it?"

"It sure would!" said Cecil, with extra enthusiasm. Lauren scoffed.

"Well, don't stay too late," said Lauren. "Some of the Strexcorp higher-ups will be coming over from Desert Bluffs for an inspection of the station. I wouldn't want them to catch you in the middle of your vocal exercises."

"No problem, Lauren," said Cecil. He backed out of the way and let her past, and she unlocked and entered the Station Management's office. When the door clicked shut behind her, Cecil breathed a sigh of relief. His heart was pounding in his chest and he re-entered the broadcast room.

"That was the program director," he said to the two other men. "We have to leave now—there will be some Strexcorp people coming here soon, and we don't want Leon to be caught up in their arrival."

"I need more time to do this," said Carlos. "I could give you an exact time, but that itself would take more time…"

"That's fine," said Leon. "I don't need to get caught here. That would totally invalidate all of the work you've done, anyway. Cecil, you can get us back in tomorrow, right?"

"Yes, of course," said Cecil.

"Then we'll come back then," Leon said. "Let's just hope that we don't get caught before then."

"Okay," said Cecil. "And did you know that Strexcorp is based in Desert Bluffs? Eurgh." He stuck out his tongue in disgust. "It leaves a bad taste in my mouth."


	8. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a driving tour of Night Vale.

"What do we do now?" asked Leon. "We crashed the car coming here."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that," said Cecil. "I've got insurance."

Leon wasn't sure how this would really help their situation. There was still the issue of actually _dealing_ with the crash, fixing the car, avoiding the authorities while doing this…

Cecil, nonetheless, led them jovially to the place where they had left the car. The car itself was no longer there—though the deep scrapes in the lawn caused by the crash were reminders, the only reminders that it had happened. Cecil walked to this space, Carlos standing to the side and L3eon standing dumbfounded, and picked up a simple letter-sized envelope. Cecil looked at it a moment, and back to the mother two men. "It's from my claims adjuster. Ugh."

"Cecil gets into more than a few accidents a month. His insurance company isn't exactly happy with him," Carlos explained.

"It's rare I meet a worse driver than me," said Leon, chuckling to himself. He didn't understand what was going on, but Carlos didn't seem to be worried, so Leon decided it was one of the benign strange things in Night Vale.

Cecil carefully folded the envelope in half and slid it into his pocket. "I think we should show you around the town, Leon, if you're going to be staying here a while."

"What do you mean?" asked Leon.

"You aren't getting out of here within the day," said Cecil, which, according to some long-standing town ordinances, means you're a citizen of Night Vale, at least temporarily. We can get you a citizen's welcome pack at city hall…"

"Wait just a second," said Leon. "Assuming that I _was_ planning on staying, wouldn't it be dangerous to go to city hall? The secret police is after me, and showing my face in a public building would surely get me found."

"Actually," said Carlos, "the secret police operate here on a kind of panopticon-type system. There aren't too many of them, but they could, and do have the ability to, be watching you all the time. It's a safe assumption, even if you aren't familiar with the work of Jeremy Bentham."

"Okay," said Leon. "So they aren't coming after me, even if they probably do know where I am. Why?" They were walking now, southward, toward downtown.

"Isn't that the million dollar question," said Carlos. "There's always the thought that you might be working within their whims without knowing it, so they're letting you go for the moment."

"There Sherriff's Secret Police does what they need to," said Cecil. "I'm not sure if they City Council or even the Lizard Kings fully control or comprehend the Sherriff's Secret Police."

"Not even a smiling god?" asked Leon.

Cecil went rigid, and Leon thought maybe that his attempt at a joke was ill-placed. "Where did you hear that?" Cecil asked slowly, in his radio voice, his features giving away his shock at the question.

"It was written on the boxes in the corner of the recording studio," said Leon. "I didn't think much of it, but apparently it's jarring. What's it mean?"

Cecil seethed, but Carlos answered for him. "The smiling god thing is just the slogan of StrexCorp. They recently bought out the station, and they've made some changes there that have rubbed Cecil the wrong way."

"Yeah," said Cecil. "That _and_ their 'smiling god'' just creeps me out. That's not how gods work. They're supposed to be fearsome and spiteful…"

"Okay," said Leon. He skimmed the area around him, looking for something to talk about other than the smiling god. His eyes fell of the tall stone walls and electrified fence that were topped with barbed wire across the street they were walking down. "What's that place?" He jammed a thumb toward the compound.

"No!" shouted Cecil. He grabbed Leon by both arms. "That's the dog park!" Leon rolled his eyes to Carlos, who nodded.

"Why?" asked Leon. "Why, I mean, what's wrong with the… dog park?"

"Do not look at the dog park. Do not talk about the dog park. Do not…"

"Cecil," said Carlos. He draped his arm over his boyfriend's shoulder, using his other hand to detach Leon from Cecil's grip.

"Do not think about the dog park," finished Cecil, looking to Leon. "Dana, my former intern, she went in there and… well, she hasn't come back yet."

"She was the one we heard in the studio?"

"Yes," said Cecil. "She's been able to communicate by text message and occasionally by interdimensional speech, but I fear for her. I mean, I fear for all of us, always, but I do fear for her in particular, in the dog park."

They walked in silence, Carlos slipping his arm down around Cecil's waist as they did. Leon tried to make a mental map of his surroundings as they went, in case he needed to have strategic knowledge of the town. The strangeness all around him told him that there was a high possibility that he would need to have quick access to that sort of information.

"Here we are," said Cecil. He gestured to the building in front of them, a sturdy, brutalist concrete building that looked more like a prison or university library than a city hall. There were more than a few cars parked at the curb, but no one was around on the outside of the structure. "Let's go inside!" He turned to Leon. "We're lucky, the mayor's holding a press conference! I wish I brought my portable broadcasting equipment."

"Ah, but you walked it yesterday, Cecil," said Carlos.

"Yeah," said Cecil, already advancing up the front steps of the imposing public building. "Come on, let's go!" The three of them disappeared into the dark building, Leon taking one last glance over his shoulder before he slipped inside.


	9. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lauren holds a special meeting.

Lauren unlocked the Station Management office with a special key that she kept in her breast pocket at all times. The inside was still very neat and tidy, like an office from the world of a 1950s financial bigwig. She scowled in disgust as she strode to the desk and pressed one of a few buttons concealed in the mahogany. A small red light above the button lit up, letting Lauren know that its purpose had been served. She then turned and left the room, being sure to lock the door again behind her.

Lauren walked back down the station hallway to the last door on her right, which she found unlocked. She opened it to find an empty conference room. She flicked on the lights and took her place at the head of the table, facing the door. She checked her watch and clasped her hands on the table in front of her. She practiced her smile. It was a Barbie doll smile, the kind that looked unnatural when on any who was actually alive. The smile worked, though, and she was proud of it. She was proud of many things.

Soon, Daniel entered the room, moving as he always did, in a mechanical way, taking a seat to her right, and soon after, the Seans from sales joined them. After them came a man who looked quite like the local radio host, but somewhat more gruesome. "Ah, Kevin," said Lauren. "I was hoping that you would be able to make it."

"Oh, Lauren," said Kevin, grinning at her with a much creepier smile than her own, "you know I wouldn't miss this for the world. I came over from Desert Bluffs as soon as my shows was over."

"Excellent," Lauren said as Kevin took his seat next to one of the Seas by the end of the table. The Sean, this one named Shawn, edged ever so slightly away from Kevin. The only seat left unoccupied was the seat at the opposite head of the table from Lauren. "We're just waiting for our special guest."

"And who is this woman, anyway?" asked one of the Seans, this one named Shaun. "You didn't give us much warning for this meeting."

"This woman," said a voice from the doorway, "is the key to your company claiming Night Vale as your won." She stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. "My name is Ada Wong. I'm sorry if I'm late—this town isn't exactly on any outside maps, you see, and I had one hell of a time finding it."

"That is no problem at all," said Lauren, using her smile on the new coming woman. We're happy to have you with us. I must say, StrexCorp has been very fond of the work that you have done with Neo-Umbrella…"

Ada's smile faltered for a moment, but she regained it. "Thank you," she replied curtly. "And I think that you know about my background in both industrial espionage and bio-organic weapons. I believe that is why you called me here today."

"Exactly," said Lauren. "StrexCorp is a great and powerful company, ready to expand through this town, no matter what it takes. Our only problem is, some people are resistant to the idea of worshipping a smiling god."

Ada knew she had seen the kind of smile that Lauren wore before, but it took her a moment before she could place where exactly from. It was the same corny smile that she had seen on the face of President Svetlana Belikova back in the Eastern Slav Republic a few years earlier, when trying to work her way into the United Nations. That had not gone well for any of the parties involved. "Well," said Ada, not letting her own smile slip, "I am sure that we can come to some sort of agreement."

"Excuse me, hi, hello, my name is Kevin, Ms. Wong, and it is just wonderful to meet you." Kevin held his hand out, but Ada declined to shake it—his eyeless face gave her a chill that reminded her of her time in Raccoon City. "Anyway, I'm just worried about the good people of Night Va—Excuse me, the Desert Bluffs Greater Metropolitan Area. I don't want them to be harmed, I just want them to be more motivated to have fun doing what they were always meant to do." He glanced back and Lauren, and back to Ada. "Work."

A bit of feat shot through Ada. The eyeless man, Kevin, the other men who seemed to be exact clones of each other, bringing memories of Carla Radames back to the front of her mind, a man who seemed to be an android, or at least could have been, and the woman with the cool smile who was the most threatening of them all. Was it really the best idea to sell BOWs to these people? She turned this over in her mind as she continued to speak. "With the newest modification of the Las Plagas parasite, the BOWs should be able to controlled, if the host of the controlling parasite is strong enough. This, mixed with certain manifestations of the T-Virus, should do the trick."

"Excellent," said Lauren. "How long can a host be viable for control of other BOWs?"

Ada began to get the feeling that this Lauren woman might know more about BOWs and the diseases that caused them than she was letting on. "That depends on the host. A healthy, strong host should last a couple of weeks, if they do not strain themselves too much."

"And what can we do to ensure that the people of Night Vale do not themselves get infected? At least, the people who are with us, who we want to protect?" Lauren's red lipstick curled upward in an even more intense grin.

"That should be easy," said Ada. "There are a couple of vaccines to the T-Virus that have been developed, though I personally recommend WilPharma's vaccine. It was the first developed, and it still is an effective one."

"I thought WilPharma went out of business years ago after that biohazard fiasco," said the robotic man, Daniel.

"That is true," said Ada, "but they were bought out by Tricell, and even when they went under, due to their involvement with bioterrorism, their vaccine lives on, because some of the genetic manufacturing done by Tricell was optioned out to private laboratories."

"And how are we going to get our hands on that?" asked Lauren.

"I am already ahead of you on that," said Ada. "I have taken the liberty of contacting your mayor, Pamela Winchell, and as a representative of the World Government, explained to her that bioterrorism is the new fad for warring countries, and that it would behoove her to get the more important citizens of this town vaccinated, just in case."

"You went above our heads?" asked Lauren, pleasantly but very firmly.

"I did what I needed to do, especially before selling you such a volatile thing as I will," said Ada. She glanced at her watch and continued, "I feat that I must go, I have another meeting soon. But, here is the bank account that I would like you to wire the money to. When I find that the agreed upon payment has made its way there tomorrow, I will supply you with the viruses you are looking for, and will tell you how the next part of this operation will work."

Lauren stood as Ada did and kept her smile, but spoke in a chilling voice. "Thank you, Ms. Wong. Just remember who is in charge here."

Ada slid the card with the account number on it across the shined table to Lauren. "Don't worry, I always do."


	10. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mayor Pamela Winchell holds a press conference.

"Hello everyone, and welcome to this press conference. I mean, it's right after the last one, at which I've kept you all afternoon while I shrieked into the void, but it _is_ a new press conference, and it is beginning now. Thank you."

The reporters said nothing. No one in the conference, the mayor or the reporters, made any indication that they noticed Leon, Cecil, and Carlos entering the room. They sat near the back as Mayor Pamela Winchell went on.

"As you know, the world is dangerous, and our lives' directives inevitably point us toward the void. The void, into which I have been screaming at my last press conference, the void, to which none of us can escape when we breathe our last. We can all put it off to the back of our minds, but it is coming and coming soon.

"So of course, we, as humans, put it off. We procrastinate death. And I, as your mayor, feel that it is my duty to help you procrastinate. So, citizens of Night Vale, I encourage youth to come to the vacant lot behind the Ralph's tomorrow morning from two to eleven for a free, government-mandated vaccination from the T-Virus."

Leon's heart skipped a beat, and stopped in his chest. The T-Virus here in Night Vale? Surely vaccination from it was proof of its existence here.

"This virus is often used as a weapon, and we don't want one of Desert Bluffs' rivalry pranks to catch us off guard, especially with the high school basketball playoffs coming up."

"What the hell?" asked Leon, to Carlos. "They don't have any priorities here!"

"They do," said Carlos. "Just be happy they're vaccinating, rather than organizing some sort of uncalled for preemptive attack."

"Damn Desert Bluffs," said Cecil, who was seething, fists clenched in his lap, on the other side of Carlos. "Always trying to prank us with deadly acts of bioterrorism." He turned to Carlos. "This'll interrupt your scheduled sleep time, because I'm assuming you'll want to not lose any time in the lab, but I'll wake you up, don't worry."

"It's okay," said Carlos. "This is important."

"This is _very_ important," said Leon. "I fight bioterrorism; it what I do. And the last biohazard outbreak I dealt with ended with a lot of people dead."

"No one's attacked yet," said Cecil. "But knowing Desert Bluffs, they probably will…"

"There is reason for your mayor to do this sort of vaccination on such a large scale," said Leon. "Which means I'm going to have to talk to her."

It was then that the three of them realized that the entire room was completely silent. They looked up from their own conversation to see that everyone, the people from the newspaper, some concerned citizens, and even the mayor herself were staring at them. The three men sat up straight in their seats and did their best not to make eye contact with anyone.

"Oh, I'm sorry," said Mayor Pamela Winchell, sarcasm dripping heavily from her voice. "Was I interrupting your press conference? Please, go on, I'm sure we would all love to hear what you have got to say. That's why we're here, right? To listen to you?"

The three men couldn't find any sort of retort. They sat there, stunned and silent, uncomfortable with the attention that they were receiving. Mayor Winchell stared them down as fiercely as the rest of the people in the room, drumming her fingers on the podium and letting out a low monotonous hum.

"Um, we, uh…" Cecil began to try to speak, but the mayor cut him off, ceasing the finger-drumming and humming.

"Sherriff's Secret Police? Take them to the holding cell downstairs. Make sure that they don't give you the slip." The armed secret policemen surrounded the three men and handcuffed them, leading them out of the room. "I don't want them interrupting _any_ of my press conferences. Ever. Again."

The doors closed behind the guards and their prisoners as she began speaking again to the assembled citizens and media outlets. "When I was in the third grade, I thought it was weird that I…" But her words were cut off when the men were being led away, to the basement of Town Hall.

"Should we try to fight our way out?" Cecil whispered to Leon, out of earshot of the secret policemen who held them. Leon just shook his head, trying to figure in mind if who he had seen at the end of the press conference was the early the woman he thought it was.

* * *

 

Lauren and Daniel sat in the Station Management office. The Seans had left, and Ada had gone to see the mayor's press conference, presumably. Lauren reached under her desk and pulled out a moderate-sized cardboard box, which she set on her desk, between her and Daniel. The box was sealed with packaging tape, and on the side it carried the StrexCorp logo.

"I want you to go to the Town Hall and switch out box 21-B with this one," said Lauren. "It is filled with syringes that look exactly like the vaccines that are already there."

Daniel looked from the box to Lauren. "Why not replace all of the boxes instead of just one? It would ensure that the virus would spread faster, reach more hosts, and there would be no resistance."

Lauren waved away the calculated suggestion. "I don't aim to kill _everyone_ ," she said. "Just do as I say, or I'll send you back to corporate for reprogramming."

Daniel stiffened at this suggestion. He took the box and stood up, heading toward the door. "It will be done" he said as he departed, shutting the door behind him.


	11. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leon, Cecil, and Carlos get a visitor in their jail cell.

The three mean did not protest as they were led out of the press room, down a set of stairs, and into a holding cell. It was one of three, set into concrete walls with thick bars preventing any prisoners from escaping. The secret policeman locked the three men in and placed the keys on his belt. He glanced back at the men and remounted the stairs, leaving them alone.

The silence was palpable until Leon broke it. "This is a jail out of an old western, I'm telling you."

"What do we do now?" asked Cecil. "Will we still receive a vaccination?"

"Damn, do I hope so," said Leon, testing the strength of each bar by gripping it and attempting to shake it. "Because I saw someone at that press conference who does not bode well for the wellbeing of this town."

"Who?" asked Carlos. "By discussing facts, sometimes new hypotheses can be formed and subsequently tested."

"Ada Wong," said Leon. "She and I have… met before. Let's just say that where she goes, trouble, in the form of a biohazard, follows."

"What can we expect from her?" asked Cecil.

"If we're lucky, just the vaccines. They're her doing, I'm sure. She sells the town a bootlegged vaccine she scavenged from the downfall of Tricell. I'm hoping that's all she's done."

"What are some other actions she might plausibly take?" asked Carlos.

"Well, she might have sold some B.O.W.s or viruses. To whom, I don't know…" Leon trailed off. "The last time she did this, I had to fight off armies of B.O.W.s and zombies in the middle of a civil war."

"Well, what do we do now?" asked Cecil.

"Hell if I know," said Leon. "With us locked up and that damn woman loose in this town…"

"Damn woman?" came a voice from outside of the cell. Ada Wong _tsked_. "Is that the way you want to talk about little old me?"

The three men turned toward her. Leon gritted his teeth. "Ada…"

"I honestly was hoping for a slightly warmer welcome than that," said Ada. "I mean, we're old friends, and all…"

"What did you sell them?" asked Leon. "What did you give these people?"

"I'll have you know that the wonderful people of Night Vale are simply protecting themselves from the inevitable," said Ada. "I'm not selling anything to the City Council that would harm them in any way."

"So just the vaccines?" asked Leon. "That's small-time, for you, especially in a town this far out of the way."

"Maybe I'm turning over a new leaf," said Ada.

"And maybe there's more to this than you're letting on," said Leon. His expression softened. "I assume you didn't just come here to gloat?"

Ada gave a little grin. "I couldn't resist seeing you again," said Ada. "And seeing you, the righteous cop, all locked up, it hearkens back to t a previous fling of mine…"

"Are you telling me that I'm like Bertolucci?" asked Leon, taking a step or two closer to her. The move would have been more intimidating were there not a thick set of bars between them. "You're just going to leave me here to die while you wreak chaos across an innocent town?"

"Um, leave _us_ here," said Cecil. His comment was not acknowledged by anyone but Carlos, and he stepped backward in the cell a step or two.

"Now, we're getting somewhere," said Ada. "I actually have," she produced a key ring from a jacket pocket, "the keys to your cell right here."

"And what do you want for them?" asked Leon, raising an eyebrow. He couldn't tell what she was playing at with this.

"I don't want anything from you," said Ada, "but to see you do your heroic act for this town. Just like you did for Raccoon, and Harvardville, right?"

"I don't want you toying with me," said Leon. "I—"

"Leon," said Ada, the smile and any semblance of it gone from her face. "You aren't in the position to be making demands right now. And I know what I want, and that's enough. All you can do is live through it." She scoffed and tossed the key ring into the cell, and turned, walking away. "I am in control, but for how long, I don't know. My advice is to do what I do: what is best for you."

She was gone, out through the door at the stop of the stairs. Leon turned to Cecil and Carlos. The latter held the keys in his hands. "These are the real keys," he said. "We can go."

"Let's go, then," said Leon. "Something is about to happen, and we need to stop it before it does."


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leon and Cecil go on a mission. Carlos calls in a favor.

"Okay, where would the vaccines be kept, if they were going to be distributed to the whole city?" asked Leon.

"The municipal garages," said Cecil, walking swiftly between Leon and Carlos. They had slipped out through a back door, down the alley behind the City Hall, and were now working their way down the street, attempting to seem as normal as possible.

"Okay, can we get in there?"

"I think so," said Cecil. "They're a couple of blocks away, on the edge of town, by Route 800, by Marshall's Gorge."

"Carlos," said Leon. "Do you know anything about the T-Virus?"

"A little," he said. "I was very interested in the events of Raccoon City, and I'd be lying if I didn't wonder about its composition…"

"Here," said Leon, giving Carlos his communication device. "There should be some information on here that you can use. Maybe not everything about the virus, but enough that you can _maybe_ start synthesizing your own vaccine, if necessary. I'm just assuming you have that sort of technology."

"I may or may not," said Carlos. "I haven't had to synthesize any chemicals since the incidences of butter mold a half a year ago, so I don't quite remember." He adjusted his glasses, which were sliding down his nose as they continued walking. He took another quick look at Leon's phone, and slipped it into the pocket of his lab coat. "I'll see what I can do. Are the files on this encrypted?"

"Nope," said Leon. "I had Hunnigan un-encrypt them as soon as I got the damn thing. I can't be bothered to deal with that every time I need a little extra intel."

"Alright," said Carlos. "I'm off, then. If you need me, I'll be at my lab." He focused his attention on Cecil. "And _be careful_. The Sheriff's Secret Police are probably looking for all of us already, so stay vigilant."

"I'll be fine," said Cecil. He stopped walking and gave Carlos a small peck on the cheek. "I love you."

"I love you, too," said Carlos, who then noticed Leon, blushed a little, and hurried off in the other direction, back toward his lab.

Cecil turned back to Leon. "Alight, let's go." They kept on, past the Night Vale Community College, the Museum of Forbidden Technology, Gino's Italian, and Mission Grove Park. Leon caught sight of something in the park, something somewhat darker than the dusky purple sky around it, but when he blinked, it was gone, or formed into another sort of shape. He couldn't quite tell. He decided not to think about it.

* * *

Carlos made it back to his lab, after powerwalking the whole way, and slumped into the high-backed swivel chair at his desk. He quickly looked over his cluttered desk, scanning for what he needed—and found it, a piece of cord that was about a yard long. This he connected to the CPU of his desktop computer and to Leon's comm device, which luckily had the same micro USB port as Carlos's cell phone. Carlos brushed his hair out of his face and leaned forward to his desk, letting his fingers fall on his ergonomic keyboard. The little bar on the monitor let him know that the device had been recognized, and a password-protected dialog box appeared.

Carlos typed in a few commands on the keyboard, and the normal desktop display disappeared, replaced by a black screen covered by bright green strings of code. His fingers flew through them, finding and detaching the bits that held the phone closed. He typed in a few more keystrokes, and pressed another button, returning to the desktop display. The password box sat there expectantly. Carlos typed in the password he had gleaned from prying into the code. "pomade"

Once the phone's files were opened up, all of the files were unencoded, just as Leon had said. Carlos clicked through a folder or two to find a file titled " ." He double-clicked it and began to read. As he did, his hand strayed to his cell phone. His thumb flicked through the contacts until it found the one it was searching for, and pressed dial.

"Hello?" came the voice at the other end.

"Hello, Simone?" asked Carlos.

"This is her," said Simone. "Who's asking?"

"Carlos—the scientist!"

"Carlos? Why didn't you say so?" asked Simone. "What are you calling about this time?"

"Well," said Carlos, "I was wondering how much you knew about the T-Virus. And about creating vaccines."

"Ah, I thought that whole mass-vaccination thing seemed sketchy," said Dr. Rigadeau. "I think I have some of the technology here in my lab. What do we need for the vaccine?"

Carlos read off a small chain of amino acids.

"That shouldn't be too much work at all!" said Simone. "Plus, I know a little bit about viral weaponry myself."

"Do you?" asked Carlos. "I thought your specialty was earth science."

"It is," said Simone, "but in the late '90s, the Umbrella Corporation called me up, asking about climate control for plants in sterile environments. Apparently I gave them the kind of information they were looking for, because a week or two later, I was working with them in Phoenix, helping design a special greenhouse type thing."

"You helped create viral weaponry?" asked Carlos, appalled.

"No, not really," replied Simone. "I helped them create a control room for testing of their viruses on plants. Or maybe they were trying to re-create the initial conditions of the virus in nature, before they modified it."

"What do you know about that?" asked Carlos, leaning over his desk in anticipation of new scientific information.

"A fair amount, actually," said Simone. "And I'd love to share it with you, while we take care of whatever it is that you're _supposed_ to be working on. Honestly, Carlos. Remember, you called me. You're looking to see if we can synthesize a vaccine. Bring me what you've got, and we'll see what we can do."

"Thanks," said Carlos. He settled back into his chair. "I'll be over as soon as I can. And thanks—you know I don't really like to call in favors like this."

"You have to do what you have to do," said Simone. "I'll leave the door to the Earth Sciences building unlocked. I'll be waiting." She hung up the phone.

Carlos placed his phone down on his desk next to Leon's comm device. He copied some of the files, easily overriding their anti-copy protocols, placed there by some high-up security programmer in whatever vague but menacing government agency Leon worked for. When he was finished, he placed a cell phone in each pocket and rushed out the door, barely remembering to log out of his computer before leaving. He didn't need the faceless old woman who secretly lives in your home to search for the best deals on bulk orders of Activia yogurt again.

* * *

"Here we go," said Cecil, gesturing toward the large, low, and almost featureless garage ahead of them. It was built of sturdy gray blocks, and had a series of five large doors on the front of it. "It's where we keep the snowplows and street sweeper and other trucks."

"Snowplows?" asked Leon. He shook his head. "Never mind. Look, do you know if there's any way to get in that isn't through the big front doors?"

"I'd try that door," said Cecil, pointing to the right of the garage doors. There was a small door labeled "AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY" inset to the wall, with a small light shining on it.

"Oh," said Leon. "Of course." The two went to the door, and Leon held up a hand to stop Cecil before they kept on. "Cecil, I don't know what's going to happen in there, but I think it's best that I go in first. I'm armed, and you're not, and there could be hostiles."

"You're the professional," said Cecil. "I mean, I'm a professional, too, but in a different trade. So I'll let you take the lead here."

Leon gave the other man a little grin, took a deep breath, and opened the door.


	13. Chapter Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lauren plots her plan. Cecil and Leon makes some discoveries in the municipal garage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably the longest chapter yet, and I am totally psyched about it. Things are getting exciting, and I'm excited to get to more very soon!

**Chapter Twelve**

            Lauren Mallard held the telephone to her ear, and her grip on it left her with white knuckles. “I want you _down there_ tomorrow morning, Kevin, do you hear me?” Her face was as red as the shirt she wore beneath her black pantsuit. “Because Daniel is an idiot, and I need things to go according to plan! Your broadcast isn’t until later in the day, and don’t think for a single second I care about the commute!” Her grip on the phone loosened a bit, and she lightened up on her tone. “Think about what would appease the Smiling God,” she said in the singsong voice she often used when trying to coerce things to go her way. “And think about what would keep your heart beating. And your radio show _on the air_.” She ended the phone call by slamming the phone into the receiver.

            She sighed and rubbed at her temples, wishing that she had remembered to bring some Strexsprin, StrexCorp’s patented low-dosage painkiller. She had some sort of headache that was only mounting with the incompetency of her underlings. She took a deep breath, steadying her brain, and walked to the radio broadcast room.

            The few boxes in the corner were exactly what she was looking for. Labeled with the orange triangle logo of StrexCorp, the boxes were the real prize. If Ms. Wong had assumed that the T-virus was all that Lauren was interested in, with the paltry slave and master established relationship using las plagas—there was no way that she could have been more wrong.

            The T-virus was nothing compared to what biological horrors StrexCorp was working on engineering. Their newest strains of mutagens were, for the lack of a better word, _perfect_. A blend of both viral and bacterial properties allowed the compound to be almost considered alive. This way it could do some of the spread on its own, without a host at all. It was the new future of bioweapons, and StrexCorp was going to be the company to pioneer the world into a new age.

            Lauren lugged the boxes back to her office, where she, after making sure that the door was locked behind her, opened it up, finding all of the neat glass tubes of the infection arranged in Styrofoam packing, ready for use. Two syringes were packed near sides of the box, for application of the mutagen. Lauren pulled one of the small glass capsules and felt its strange warmth in her fingers. She grinned a devilish grin, and tucked it into her pocket. Then, she closed up the boxes, placing them neatly in a stack behind her desk.

            The testing, at last, would begin tomorrow. They _would_ appease the Smiling God.

* * *

            Leon pulled the small Maglite out of his holster, where he kept it under a small strap beneath his extra clips. He clicked it on and shone the small beam around the garage. “No one’s here,” he said, though his voice was still only just above a whisper. “Come on in.”

            Cecil entered behind him, and the two men were able to look around the darkened garage. Dust wafted through the beam of light, and near the other side of the large room, they could see a couple of large municipal trucks parked. Rows of tool benches and cabinets for storage lined the back wall, below large, translucent fiberglass-covered windows. Leon swung the light to the right and they saw stacks of cardboard boxes stacked against the wall.

            Leon crept closer, inspecting the boxes. They seemed to be unmarked from the side. He put the Maglite between his teeth and pulled one of the boxes off of the stack, placing it on the ground. Across the top, it was sealed shut with orange tape, upon which the biohazard symbol was printed, along with the words “HAZARDOUS MATERIAL: HANDLE WITH CARE.”

            “I think we’ve found what we’re looking for,” said Leon. Cecil pulled himself away from the tool benches to join Leon at the box. Leon used his knife to slice and even cut in the tape, and pulled the box open. Inside, he found, in individual plastic wrapping, surrounded by insulative bubble wrap, small vials of the vaccine for the T-virus. They had the Tricell logo on the packaging, and Leon sighed, standing up, and handed the one of the vaccines to Cecil. “You see that logo?” he asked, indicating the three pentagons pointing to each other on the plastic. “That’s Tricell. They went out of business back in 2009, thanks to Captain Redfield and the B.S.A.A., after they discovered experimentation and testing in Africa dating back to the 60s…”

            “But why would their vaccines being used now?” asked Cecil, handing the package back to Leon.

            “It’s got to be Ada,” he said. “She’s the only one who would have the access to the company’s supplies before it went bust, and she’s the only one who could have brought them here.”

            The first big door to the garage began to open, a rattling monstrosity receding into the ceiling. Leon shut off his Maglite and grabbed Cecil, pulling him back into the corner against the front wall. Light flooded in from the evening outside, mixed with the yellow headlights of a municipal vehicle. Leon and Cecil stayed silent as a large diesel municipal pickup truck rolled into the garage and shut off. Two men stepped out of it and slammed the doors behind them. The rattling began again, the door closing.

            “Over here,” said a voice, monotone as if from a grown-up speak and spell. “Put it with the others.”

            “Yes sir,” said the other man, some sort of lackey. He carried a cardboard box not unlike the other boxes stacked against the wall and placed it on top of a pile. “Funny that just one box got left out, isn’t it?”

            “Amusement does not follow,” replied the other man, a bit too quickly. “All is protocol. For the safety and betterment of the community.” He stepped with stiff movements toward the pile of boxes and the other man. Cecil gasped, holding a hand to his mouth, reminding himself to stay quiet. The two men didn’t seem to hear him.

            “Alright, is there anything else we need to do tonight?” The man who had carried the box seemed to be a bit anxious now, fidgeting as he stood in the dark garage.

            “Almost,” replied the man, and in a swift, mechanical movement, punched his hand forward, fingers first, through the smaller man’s chest. He pushed through to mid-forearm, and withdrew, letting the man drop to the ground, in the pool of blood that was already forming before he splashed into it. Cecil tensed next to Leon, pushing himself further into the shadows, wanting to scream but knowing, thanks to the training he went through in preparation for his “Surviving Bystander” badge in the Boy Scouts, that screaming would be a very bad idea. The murderer stood above the dead man, blood dripping from his own arm, and cast another glance over the boxes. That was when he noticed the open box on the floor, next to the body.

            He went to it, picked it up, and held it to his eye level. His eyes narrowed as he inspected the box. Then, he placed it carefully in the stacks with the other boxes, making sure that the stack was stable with his hands. He stepped back and looked over his work. The boxes were impeccably straight, but there were smears of blood all down the sides of one stack where he had used his bloody arm. Impressed with his own work, the man turned and left through the small, people sized door that Cecil and Leon had entered through, closing and locking it behind him.

            Leon and Cecil waited for a moment, Cecil’s eyes wide, looking at the body on the ground. Then, Leon stepped from the shadows to inspect the man on the ground. “He’s dead,” he said. Cecil went to the door and tugged on the handle.

            “He locked it,” said Cecil. “We’re stuck in here.”

            “I’m not getting pinned with this,” said Leon. “If we get found in here with this body, they’re going to think that we killed him, no matter what. And we need to get rid of that extra box they brought in.”

            Cecil joined Leon over the body. “That’s _you_ ,” he said. “I know of him. I don’t know him personally, but I know about him, intimately.”

            Leon didn’t make a comment on this. “Do you know who the man who killed him was?”

            “That’s Daniel,” he said. “He’s the radio station’s new producer. What he was doing here, or what he had to do with Ada, I have no idea.”

            “Obviously, he didn’t want anyone to know that there was an extra box of vaccines,” said Leon, referring to the body on the floor. The blood pooled around it was running down to a drain in the cement floor behind the now parked truck. Leon turned from that to face the boxes and took down the box he had opened, placing it on another stack. Then, he took the box below it, the box that Daniel had brought in.

            “This means that it’s more than just Ada who’s plotting against Night Vale,” said Cecil. “And this could prove to be a bigger conspiracy than we originally anticipated.” He did a little jump of glee. “I love conspiracies! They’re so interesting!” He then realized that what was happening was a bit more serious than what he was acting, and he stood still. “And I’m interested to get to the bottom of it.”

            “Oh my God,” said Leon, looking at the stacks of boxes.

            “What is it?” asked Cecil.

            “There’s a door behind these boxes.” He began moving boxes out of the way, revealing the small, unassuming door. “That’s why he was being so careful about the stacking. The boxes were arranged so that this door was covered.”

            “This extra box is different from the others,” said Cecil, pulling Leon away from the door for a moment. “Look at this,” he said, pointing to the top of it. “There isn’t a biohazard tape. And the box has writing on it. It’s the StrexCorp logo.”

            “Okay,” said Leon. “Which means that Daniel wanted this to seem like nothing special, a normal delivery. Nothing that anyone would want to check into.”

            “And StrexCorp is a big company,” said Cecil. “I’ll give that to them, even if they are from _Desert Bluffs_. They’ve got a hand in pretty much everything. No one would suspect a box from them.”

            “There’s something different about these boxes,” said Leon. “And if it was from Ada, and there’s foul play, I’d be willing to bet that these ‘vaccines’ do the exact opposite of what they’re intended to do.” He opened the box and pulled out a packaged vaccine. He handed this and the other vaccine from the other box to Cecil. “We’ll need to give these to Carlos, so he can figure out what’s going on here.”

            “How can we?” asked Cecil. “Remember, we’re trapped.”

            “I guess we follow that door,” said Leon, jutting his thumb at the door he had uncovered from behind the boxes. “Or else we say with this guy,” he nodded to the dead man on the floor, “until tomorrow morning when they come to pick up the vaccine. And I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to be here for that.”

            “Let’s go through the door,” said Cecil.


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carlos meets up with Simone Rigadeau, and Cecil and Leon explore the underground tunnel.

                “Simone?” called Carlos, as he crept up to the Earth Sciences Building of the Night Vale Community College. From the outside, the building looked totally abandoned. And it had been, technically, but the community college, but Rigadeau continued to do her work there. Carlos had first worked with her months before, when investigating the Whispering Forest. She was the first one to understand its working, and was a great asset to that investigation.

                Rigadeau was a brilliant scientist, and Carlos understood why she didn’t want the higher-ups at the college knowing what she really did; why she put on her act of lunatic transiency. Carlos didn’t care how she was able to continue her research, as long as she was able to. With her background, apparently with the Umbrella Corporation, her work was very important. She also had an insider’s view of how science works specifically in Night Vale, something that had lent her the ability to so quickly understand the Whispering Forest.

                Carlos rapped on the old wooden door of the Earth Sciences building and waited for the door to be unlocked. When it opened, Simone, clad in her lab coat and wearing a large smile on her face, ushered him inside. “Carlos,” she said, “you never come around enough.”

                “I’m sorry,” said Carlos as he was whisked up to the Earth Sciences lab. “I’ve been busy with all of this _science_ …”

                “I know the feeling,” said Simone, sitting in a tall architect’s rolling chair next to her lab table. The table was almost totally covered by a series of vials and capped test tubes, as well as an environmental setup in glass stubs, with a large glass orb at the bottom of one of them, being heated from below by an open flame. Simone caught Carlos’s inspection of it, and explained: “I wanted to know if I could recreate the Miller-Urey experiment in Night Vale. I’ve been redoing a lot of older, famous experiments.” She paused, her smile fading. “They don’t always turn out the same.”

                “What about the T-virus?” asked Carlos. “Will it be the same?”

                Simone’s face turned grave. “That, I don’t know.” She picked up the rack of vials. “I haven't dared test the samples I stole…”

                “And yet, you kept samples?” asked Carlos.

                “How else was I to know I was safe?” asked Simone, in answer. “The Umbrella Corporation doesn’t _have_ former employees. They have deceased employees. I needed insurance, and to get away, to where I wouldn’t be found.”

                “Night Vale,” said Carlos.

                “Exactly,” said Simone. “Knowing I was outside of their evil gaze, and that I had the proof to ruin them, it made me feel safe.”

                “But after their collapse, you still kept the samples?” asked Carlos.

                “Don’t judge me, Carlos,” said Simone. “I am a woman of science, and though I am disgusted by the implications of the contents of these vials, I am also fascinated by them.”

                Carlos didn’t reply right away. He couldn’t lay blame on her, because were he in her shoes, he would have done the same. He wondered to himself if he would be able to abstain from experimentation as Simone had, or if his curiosity would have overwhelmed him. He certainly was curious now.

                “We need to form a vaccine,” said Carlos, producing the vials from the warehouse. “Because there might be an outbreak of bioweaponry sooner than we could have anticipated. And we have no idea what is and isn’t real vaccine.”

                “And the whole town will be vaccinated tomorrow,” said Simone. “Well, what the hell are we waiting for?” She took the samples from him and crossed to the electron microscope against the wall.

                “Simone,” said Carlos. She stopped and turned to him. “We have to be careful. I promised.”

                “We’re scientists,” said Simone. “We’ll be fine.” She turned back to the microscope. Carlos looked down at his hands.

                _I sure do hope so_ , he thought.

* * *

 

                “I have spent _way_ too much time in underground tunnels,” complained Leon. “And they never turn out well.” Cecil didn’t respond. He stayed just behind Leon’s right shoulder. “I can never tell which way I’m going, either,” continued Leon.    

                “I can’t help you there,” said Cecil. “I am pretty good at navigating using the lights that flash in the void, but down here, my internal compass is all off.”

                They walked a bit more in silence. Cecil broke it, asking, “How did you get into your line of work?”

                Leon was silent for a moment, for long enough that Cecil was musing over whether he should repeat himself or just let it be. Then, Leon spoke. “Back in 1998—after Raccoon City—I was approached by the U.S. Government. Not the World Government, like you guessed whatever that is. They wanted me on as a part of their small anti-bioterror force. There weren’t many survivors of Raccoon City, so there must’ve been something to me, right? Well, I was out of the job anyway, after the police force was completely gone, so there I was. A year of training and I was back in the field.”

                They continued walking in silence. Their footsteps echoed in the tunnel, the sound bouncing back from the stone walls.

                “How’d you get into radio?” asked Leon. He glanced at Cecil in the darkness, but couldn’t read the man’s face as he responded.

                “I’m not entirely sure,” he said. “I always was interested, and then, after…” He broke off, his thoughts going elsewhere. “And I was the voice of Night Vale. I just was.”

                Leon didn’t prod him further because Cecil seemed to think that his response was enough to explain and answer the question.

                “Do you smell that?” asked Cecil. Leon sniffed the air.

                “Smell what?”

                “Something… not damp. Something _not_ of this underground.” Cecil raised his nose to the air again. “Something—bureaucratic.”

                Leon wasn’t sure what he was going on about, but there was definitely a change in the atmosphere in the unnel, as they crept through it. The air smelt drier, more processed, cleaner, and yet dustier…

                “A light, ahead,” said Leon, pointing. His hand went to his flashlight’s small rubber on/off button, but he didn’t press it, yet.

                The light grew larger as they drew closer, and soon the two men found themselves at n inset metal door at the end of the tunnel. A small vent was installed to one side, and wire-reinforced glass formed a window in the door, which allowed the light through. On the other side was a semi-furnished office hallway, which seemed totally normal, was it not in a hidden passageway underground. The off-white walls were intermittently adorned by landscape art, and a hibiscus stood against one wall. A semi-sterile gray carpet obscured the floor.

                “Do we go in?” asked Cecil.

                “There’s not much else to do,” said Leon, and he switched off his flashlight. His hand went to the steel door handle, and he turned it. With a slight push, the door came open. “Alright, then,” said Leon, gesturing for Cecil to enter. “Let’s go inside.”


	15. Chapter Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leon and Cecil investigate the underground office and make some discoveries.

“Who puts an office building underground?” asked Leon. He crept slowly down the hallway, on high alert. There didn’t seem to be any activity in the hallway. Leon had to remind himself that if it was a normal office, that would make sense: it was getting to be pretty late at night.

“Oh, plenty of places,” said Cecil. “It’s great for those who pursue a subterranean lifestyle, and allows employers to be more inclusive.”

                Leo rolled his eyes and backed against the wall, motioning for Cecil to do the same. From there, Leon peeked around the corner. The hallway continued, much of the same. The branched off a little ways down, intersected by another hallway running parallel to the one they had come down and perpendicular to the one they now faced. At the end of this hallway was another metal door, much like the one they had come in through from the tunnel, with a glowing red EXIT sign above it.

                “Look,” said Leon, turning back to Cecil. “The coast seems clear. Let’s get out of here.”

                “We can meet back up with Carlos once we get out of here and help with the vaccine,” said Cecil. “Let’s go.”

                The two men rounded the corner, making their way down the hallway. Some plain lacquered wooden doors were spaced as they went down, labelled as different offices with names that neither of the men recognized or remembered immediately after reading. Leon held his gun at the ready, and tensed when they reached the cross-hallway, which proved to be empty, reaching down about thirty feet both ways before halting, with one door on the wall in the direction they came from on each side.

                Cecil tried the door, but it was locked. “Damn it,” said Leon.

                “There’s probably a key in here somewhere,” said Cecil, glancing back at the hallway and the many doors it held.

                “Maybe,” said Leon, “but we don’t have time for this right now!”

                “We don’t have any options,” said Cecil. He stalked to the first door, turned the handle, and found that it opened easily. He glanced inside, and then looked back to Leon. “Are you coming?” he asked. Leon reluctantly nodded and followed him.

                Cecil switched on the lights, and nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary for an office. There were two chairs set up, facing a desk. The desk was home to a desktop computer, a desk calendar, and a rolodex. Behind the desk was a bookshelf full of books of similar size and shape to each other. A few papers lay on the desk. Leon went around the desk and picked them up.

 

> MEMO
> 
> TO: ALL EMPLOYEES
> 
> A reminder to attend the mandatory company vaccination _before_ the town vaccination tomorrow. Beat the lines, use common sense: get vaccinated today! Your life, and more importantly, your job, depends on it! All employees who fail to do so will face the consequences of their actions. Assemble in Conference Room B for your compulsory vaccination at four o’clock sharp.
> 
>                 MANAGEMENT

                “That’s weird…” said Leon. He turned to Cecil, who had his tongue stuck out at the bookcase in disgust. “What?”

                “These books are… awful,” he said. He reached to pull one off the shelf to show Leon, but recoiled before he even touched it.

                “What?” asked Leon, moving to look where Cecil was looking. The books were all the same height, red with a black stripe at the top and bottom of the spine. They were labeled “StrexCorp Employee Manual,” followed by a volume number and year of publication. The newest was dated to the current year, but tracing them backward, they went back in time very quickly, a long time. The books didn’t seem to get older, though, as they progressed back down the shelves, all of the pages as bleached white as they would have been at their first printing, none of them yellowing with age.

                “So StrexCorp runs this office…” said Leon, drawing a finger across the volumes.

                “I knew there was a reason to hate them,” said Cecil, clenching his fists. “And it makes sense.”

                “They would have the resources for the bioengineering of the T-virus,” said Leon, “and could easily seem inconspicuous when delivering vaccines.”

                “We need to warn Night Vale,” said Cecil.

                “We need to find the key,” said Leon. He turned back to the desk and pulled out the drawers, one by one, slamming them shut when he found nothing but meticulously organized office supplies. “There’s nothing here,” he said.

                “Why don’t we check another office?” asked Cecil.

                “I think I’ve got a better idea,” said Leon. He handed the memo from the desk to the other man.

                “Conference Room B,” said Cecil, scanning the document.

                “I figure we should check there next,” said Leon. “We might find out more about Strex’s plot while we look for a key. I mean, we still don’t know _why_ they would want to release a bio-weapon.” Cecil nodded, and they left the room, shutting off the light behind them. They walked down the hallway back the way they came, toward the tunnel, watching for the “Conference Room B” label on a door. When they reached the cross-cutting hallway, Leon glanced down to the left and right. He calculated for a moment, and then led Cecil to the right.

                There was only one door off of this hallway, and it face them from the left as they walked toward it. A brass plaque on the middle of the plain door told them that they had reached their destination. “We’ll go in on the count of three,” said Leon. He stood with his gun at the ready, and Cecil placed a hand on the door’s knob. “One,” said Leon. “Two…” Both men were tense. “Three.” Cecil opened the door to complete darkness. Leon kept his gun up, and Cecil felt around for a light switch.

                “Ahhhh!” shouted Cecil, holding his hands up against the sight in front of him.

                The conference table in the center of the room had three partially torn-apart bodies slumping over it, and six or seven more stumbling around the room, blood dripping from their mouths and hands.

                “Holy shit,” said Leon. He fired a shot into the skull o the closest zombie. “They tested the virus on some of their own.” He fired another shot into another zombie, and it stumbled into a chair before crumpling to the ground.

                “Is _this_ what the T-virus is like?” asked Cecil, clutching his chest. His wide eyes darted from the waltzing carnage to Leon and back again.

                “This is the tamer side of this God damn virus,” said Leon, firing another shot and dispatching another zombie. They had all realized the men’s presence in the room, and were bumbling toward them. He fired a few more shots and reached into his pocket, pulled out a new clip, and replaced it for his empty one. A few more shots, and the rest of the zombies were down. Leon lowered his gun. “Don’t get too close to the corpses,” he said. “They might still try to bite.”

 

                Cecil wasn’t exactly comfortable with that, but he took a tentative step into the room after Leon, who went right to the table. He rummaged through some of the files that the former employees has left open on the conference table. “What do you make of this, Cecil?” he asked, holding up a sheet of paper. Cecil picked his way over, carefully stepping around the bodies on the floor, and examined the memo.

> STREXCORP SYNERNISTS INCORPORATED
> 
> You have been a very productive employee, and have appeased the Smiling God in such a way that you may be an integral part of StrexCorp’s exciting new plans for Night Vale, which will soon be home to a strong and _happy_ division of StrexCorp Synernists Incorporated. Your diligence and hard work will allow many others to also give up their entire lives to work for a glorious company. You have given your lives to your work, and StrexCorp is grateful and eager to take them.
> 
>                                 -Management

                “That seals it, then,” said Cecil. “StrexCorp is going to try to take over Night Vale by turning everyone into zombies with that awful T-virus!”

                “They’re the ones who are running this operation, that’s for sure,” said Leon. “And they’re serious enough to test on their own employees. Maybe making sure what they had really worked.”

                “Maybe that’s how they took Desert Bluffs…” muttered Cecil. He shook his head. “No,” he said, “they were a much of mindless zombies anyway.”

                “That means that by inviting Ada, they could be sure to protect the people they _want_ to protect, and use _her_ as their fall-woman.”

“They’ll take out the whole town,” said Cecil, “and then just say that it was Ada.”

                “We have to get out of here,” said Leon. “And warn people. And get the _real_ vaccine out.”

                They moved to the door and left the zombie corpses behind. They entered the hallway and without having the deliberate, entered the first office that they came to. Had they not known better, they could have thought that this was the same office that they had already investigated. It featured the same books, desk, computer, and chairs. The men moved to the desk, and rummaged through the drawers. Their contents almost exactly matched those of the desk in the other office.

                “This is eerie,” said Cecil, shutting the last drawer.

                “More eerie than the hidden underground office complex and the zombie conference?”

                “Almost,” said Cecil. They exited the room and tried the office across the hall. It also was almost identical to the other two offices. A quick search through the desk drawers yielded nothing, and Leon let out a frustrated snort.

                “C’mon,” he said. “Let’s check the next one.” Cecil followed him out of the room, and into the next office. It did not surprise either of them that the office looked basically just like the other offices. Leon marched right over to the desk and began checking the desk drawers. Cecil, however, hung back, observing the room. There was something about it that was different than the other offices, and it took him a moment to figure out what it was. He walked past Leon, who was having trouble with one of the drawers, and to the bookshelf, where he pulled down the one out-of-place manual down.

                “This damn drawer’s stuck!” exclaimed Leon. Cecil ignored this and placed the book in front of him.

                “Look at this,” he said. Leon took the book from him.

                “’Android Care and Maintenance for Androids,’” he read. “That seems a bit redundant, doesn’t it?”

                “Not if you’re a self-regulatory android set up to produce local radio,” said Cecil. “Remember the man-android-thing in the garage? Daniel? This is his office.”

                “And?” asked Leon.

                “And,” said Cecil, placing the book back on the shelf where he had found it. “That drawer is locked. Probably because it contains something worth being locked up.”

                “Like?” asked Leon.

                “Like they key out of the facility where a weaponized virus has been tested, especially if an android, who would not be affected by the virus, were to administer the test.”

                “Cecil,” said Leon, relaxing, “you’re a genius.” Cecil grinned. “However,” continued Leon, “we still need to get into the drawer, and it’s still locked.”

                “Honestly,” said Cecil, “this place is in order—to a point where it’s sort of creepy.” He lifted the desk chair, the swivel wheels rolling aimlessly in the air, and hefted it over his head. Leon’s eyes widened and he backed out of the way before Cecil brought the chair down hard on the desk, breaking it down the middle. Cecil kneeled down and rummaged through the spilled contents of the middle drawer. It was a moment before he brought forth a plain key. A smile stretched across his face.

                “Well then,” said Leon, standing and brushing himself off. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a while since I've updated, but I'm happy to bring another (and the longest) chapter to you! I had so much fun writing this again, and I hope to update again soon!


	16. Chapter Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carlos continues his work; he receives a phone call.

Ada sat in her hotel room, on the edge of her bed, and saw the nighttime lights of the town emerge overhead. This town was interesting, and she would be interested to see what would happen if and when the good people at StrexCorp inevitably decided to use their bioweapons on the townspeople. She didn’t like it, but it made sense for her to work with them.

Night Vale was different than any other place she had ever been in. She didn’t think that the infection would ever escape—it was remote enough to be easily contained—but the second the payment went through, she was going to be out of there.

 _Though_ , she wondered to herself, _will I really?_ The vision of a blond-haired agent drifted into her mind, and she looked away from the window to the suitcase she had placed neatly in the corner. It contained three handguns and a host of ammunition. This went with the two handguns she had strapped to her legs at all time. The case held her grappling-gun, as well as an extra handgun and one that she never used, despite bringing it along.

The final gun was the same gun she had used in 1998, when she had fought her way out of the Raccoon City Police Department in the midst of the most devastating biological crisis since the development of engineered bio-weapons. She wasn’t a sentimental person, nor superstitious—this was something she could rely on, because it had proven itself. She hadn’t had to fall back on it, but it was _there_ , just in case.

She didn’t think that she would ever need it again. She was able to make deals that benefited her well, now. She was good at her job. However, she still brought her old gun—it was still there. Just in case. She pried her eyes from the case and forced herself to think in the _now_. She stood and exited her room.

* * *

“There is no way that we’re going to get this done on time,” said Simone, leaning back in her chair. “I’m an Earth Scientist, not a Geneticist. Carlos, can’t we get your team of scientists in on this?”

“What we’re doing isn’t exactly legal, I think,” said Carlos. “Or, at least, I think so. I’m never really sure. But they are a little bit more loyal to what’s going on here than we are.”

“You think they’d rat us out?” asked Simone. “You don’t seem to have a very high opinion of them.”

“I _do_ have a high opinion of my team,” said Carlos, grating his teeth, “but I think we need to be careful with who we trust.” Simone responded by lifting her hands in resignation, and went back to her microscope.

Carlos began to lean back to his own microscope when he noticed the screen of his cell phone lighting up. He slipped off his rubber glove and snapped it into the trash before picking it up in between the second and third rings. “Hello?” he asked, trying not to sound like he was anxiously waiting for the call.

“Carlos?” asked the voice on the other end of the line. “Oh, thank every one of the various disproven and unknown gods you’re alright!”

“What’s happened?’ asked Carlos. “You sound shaken up.”

“Oh, I am,” said Cecil. “But I am just so glad—” His voice went off of the phone in a jumble of background noises. Then Cecil’s voice, at a distance: “Hey!” and another voice took over.

“Carlos, this is Leon.” Carlos let out a breath that he had been holding during the altercation. “Cecil was a little unwilling to release the phone. But we know what’s going down.”

“And?” asked Carlos. Simone had put down her scientific equipment and moved closer to Carlos, realizing from his reactions to the phone that something big was going down.

“We have conclusive evidence that StrexCorp is going to launch a biological attack on Night Vale tomorrow,” said Leon through the phone. “We can prove it. We found our way into an underground Strex base where they had tested their samples of the T-Virus on some of their own employees. They’re using the vaccines as a conduit.”

“We need to stop them,” said Carlos, gaining a worried look from Simone, whom he shooed away.

“You need to stay there and figure out how to make an actual, viable vaccine,” said Leon. “Cecil and I will be making our way to the Radio Station to try to make an emergency broadcast. That way, we can warn people against the attack.”

“Okay,” said Carlos.

“Now, here’s Cecil. He’s clawing at me. It’s—weird. Good luck, Carlos.” Leon’s voice departed from the phone and was replaced by Cecil’s gasping squeals.

“Carlos are you okay? I couldn’t get the phone back, I’m—”

“Cecil, it’s okay,” said Carlos, grinning and turning red, despite himself. “We’re going to be okay.”

“We’re going back to the radio station,” said Cecil. “It’s my home turf—I will really be able to _do_ something, something to save the town.”

“You’re doing great,” said Carlos, his eyes drifting to the microscopes where slides of the T-Virus sat to be observed, and to the notebooks where observations and quickly mathematically and chemically manipulated. “You’re bringing us closer to figuring this whole thing out. You’re helping the town, Cecil.”

“Carlos,” said Cecil, his voice trembling as he spoke. “I am afraid.”

“That sounds like something I would say,” said Carlos, trying to help his boyfriend laugh off his fears. “Cecil. You are being very brave. And scientifically speaking—that is, there has been scientific research on the topic, and it’s pretty conclusive—bravery is an incredibly _endearing_ trait.”

“Carlos…”

“Cecil. You can do this. I love you.”

“Carlos—you brilliant man—I love you, too. Please be safe.”

“Cecil,” said Carlos. He sighed by forced a smile even though he knew that Cecil wouldn’t see it. “A scientist is always fine.” He was saying it more, he realized as his boyfriend disconnected the call, for himself more than anything else.


	17. Chapter Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leon and Cecil return to the radio station.

“Kevin, can you come in, please?” asked Lauren, sitting upright in her straight-backed chair.  Kevin opened the door, with a thin line of a mouth hat grew into a full-bodied smile when he caught Lauren’s eyes.

“Hello, _Lauren_ ,” said Kevin.  “It’s so good to see you, so soon.”

“I know it might seem like this is a bit late to call you back in from Desert Bluffs, but I need your assistance.”

“ _My_ assistance?” asked Kevin.  “I thought that was what _Daniel_ was for.”

“ _Daniel_ ,” said Lauren, “has been put out of commission for the time being.  Our plan may have been discovered, and I think that our _interloper_ might be trying to break down all that we’ve been working for.”

“You want _me_ to deal with this interloper?” asked Kevin.

“I would like you to cease his meddling,” said Lauren.  “ _How_ is of no consequence to me.”

“I’d be _happy_ to,” said Kevin, with an incredibly stretched grin.

“Kevin,” said Lauren, “they mustn’t be allowed to finish building the vaccine.”

“The vaccine?” asked Kevin.

“We can’t move up the infection date,” said Lauren, “and the last time I checked in, the scientist had gone off to make a vaccine.  Go to his lab, and cease his work.”

“I’m on it,” said Kevin, almost _singing_ with glee.  Lauren returned his grin, and watched as he left.  There was a slight bump in the plan, but if she cast enough light on the bump, she could be sure that there would be _no shadow_.

* * *

 

“Here we are,” said Cecil, leading Leon up the front steps of the radio station.  There was only one car in the driveway, and it was a light orange compact car.  “That’s Lauren’s car,” he said.

“Lauren is connected to Stex, isn’t she?” asked Leon.

“Yeah,” said Cecil.  “I am not a fan.”

“Neither am I,” said Leon, “especially with the latest plans of bioterrorism.”

“Yeah, and we always have all of these creative differences for the show,” said Cecil.  Leon looked back at him.  “Also all of the bioterror stuff, too.  I’m not a fan of _that_ , either.”

“We’re going to definitely want to avoid her until we get the warning message broadcaster,” said Leon.  “Then we can deal with her.”

Cecil nodded, and they entered the radio station. T he place seemed to be empty, and all of the doors in the hallway were closed—including the station management door behind which the two had to assume Lauren sat.  Leon nodded toward the broadcast room door, and Cecil led the way toward it.  He put his hand on the doorknob, twisted, and pulled, but the door was locked shut.  “Weird,” said Cecil.  He reached into his pocket and produced a key and a small utility knife.  He placed the key into the door’s keyhole and used the utility knife to cut open his fingertips to spill some blood on the wood of the door as he turned the key.  He then tried again to open the door, but found that it still held fast.

“This is—weird,” said Cecil in a half-whisper.  “The door _should_ open.”

“Under what circumstances would it not?” asked Leon.

“If the master key—damn it!”

“What about a master key?” asked Leon.

“When the station closes for the night, the station automatically locks most of the doors, and opens them in the morning.  Before Stex showed up, I’m not sure that Station Management ever even _left_ the building, and I think it had something to do with them.”

“So how do we get the door open?” asked Leon.

“We need the master key,” said Cecil.

“Where is that?” asked Leon.  “Lauren doesn’t have it, does she?”

“No, I don’t’ think so,” said Cecil, furrowing his brow.  “It should be somewhere here in the station, though, for emergencies.

“Then let’s get to finding it,” said Leon.  He turned to face the rest of the hallway.  “Do you know if _any_ of the doors will be unlocked?” he asked.

“Oh, yes,” said Cecil.  “Only the broadcast room door gets locked in that way.”  He shrugged.  “Must be some sort of extra security measure, or something.”

“Fine,” said Leon.  He took a step forward and stopped.  “Before we start, I have one more question—have you had to find this key before?”

“No,” said Cecil.

“So there are no traps in this building that you know of?”

“None that we should encounter, no, but I don’t know the building as well as I should…”  Cecil glanced around.  “Plus, I’m not sure it always stays the same—the station might move itself around, like a natural defense system.”

Leon almost questioned this, but instead he simply nodded.  “Let’s get to it, then.”

He started to the room across the hall from the sound booth, and found it to be unlocked.  He turned back to Cecil.

“Let’s go.”  Cecil nodded and followed Leon into the room.  The place looked much the same as it had when Leon had explored it earlier on.  Leon stepped into the middle of the room and began looking around when the two men heard a door crack open behind them.  Leon dove behind one of the couches and crouched down, so that he could not be seen from the door, which still stood open.

The door that had opened was the door to the station management’s office, and out came Lauren Mallard, who only let her surprise at seeing Cecil show for the briefest of moments.  “Oh, hello,” she said.  “Cecil.  What might you be doing back here at this hour?”

“Oh,” said Cecil.  “I—wh…”  He glanced around and saw that Leon had disappeared from view.  “I just realized that I had left some—things—here, and look!  I got them!”  He laughed weakly and looked at Lauren while he wrung his hands.

“Well, Cecil, I was just heading out,” said Lauren.  She grinned, shooing a horrifyingly perfect set of straight white teeth.  “How about I give you a ride home?”

Cecil glanced back into the room and then turned to Lauren.  “I, wh…”  He swallowed, hard.  “Okay, sure, yeah.”  He stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him, leaving Leon alone.

Leon waited a moment, making sure that the two of them were not coming back into the room.  He let out a sigh.  “Okay…” he uttered aloud, glancing at the room around him.   He hesitated for a moment, and then made up his mind.  “I’ll find the key anyway.”  There was no response from the room around him, but Leon knew that it was his best bet to find the key and then work to find Cecil to broadcast.  It would be easier to find the key without Lauren hanging around.

He just hoped that she had only brought Cecil home, and not—somewhere else.


End file.
